Piece of Work
by zephyrKiss
Summary: WIP - Draco/Hermione & Hermione/Theo When Draco can't commit to his wife, what keeps her from straying? Rated M for future chapters.


**Author's Note:** _Hi! I'm a new author on . I've read a LOT of fics, and thought I'd give it a try, myself. I can't update as regularly as I'd like to because I'm a Masters student, and have a lot of papers to write, and stuff to study and code already. I do hope you'll stick with this one, though!_ _  
_ _This is my very first fic, ever! Please be kind. And enjoy! Thanks 3_

 _ **Chapter 1 : The Beginning of it All**_

She had just returned from a _date_.

That was what she had called it.

The idea of her going out with Theodore Nott was not only off-putting to Draco, but made him almost regret the things he's said and done to her.

Almost.

He could not stop those stupid thoughts of her lying prone on silken sheets, her delectable little body offered up to that piece of shit, Nott - her fiery eyes burning with lust for someone other than her husband - and then came the guilt, anguish; and then he'd mentally chastise himself for having thought of Hermione as a possession of his. He knew better, and yet somehow there was that feeling of lordship that just refused to go.

Maybe that's why she was no longer with him, except in name.

He watched passively from his large armchair as she tried to kick off her heels, stumbling a little, only to steady herself against the wall - her lovely breasts jiggling a little. Something akin to affection surfaced in Draco's heart, as his gaze landed on her slightly flushed face. She was drunk. Completely drunk - A tipsy smile on her lips, curls stuck to her face and frizzed up instantly from the heat inside the house; she was the most adorable creature he ever laid eyes upon.

Oh how he longed to hold her against him. Just one more time.

True. It was he who had buggered it all up. But hey, she was the forgiving one, wasn't she?

It was clear now. The Ministry's mandate was the only reason she was with him at all. Hermione's heart, he was sure, lay somewhere else.

Draco found it incredibly hard to believe when she had first uttered those three most sought-after words.

"Draco..", she had whispered in the dead of the night, the moonlight illuminating her face.

"I know you don't feel the same way, but it is only fair that I tell you now." She had reasoned before she had shifted in his arms, drawing a slight distance between their warm bodies. She had closed her eyes then, and said in a voice so low that he could hardly hear - a hushed "I love you, Draco."

That was when a chill had passed through him. He stiffened up and lay beside her, dumbfounded.

She sensed his rigid posture behind her and slowly turned away, extracting herself from his arms. She had looked at him one more time, with a sad little smile and mumbled "I- I.. I just.. thought. You.. Maybe." and then, a quick "Sorry. I'm making myself a cup of tea. Would you like some?". And that was the last time she had said anything remotely affectionate to him. Her demeanor hadn't changed much - she was sweet, forgiving and took care of everything in the Manor - the flowers, the peacocks, their house elves. She would oversee every annual ball, have tea with his mother, and make huge progress in her research. Everything.

Nothing had changed. She still kissed him just as sweetly as she did that night, moaned his name and writhed underneath him, or against the wall, on tables, chairs or couches, every time he wanted a fuck. Until the day she met Theodore Nott at a the Leaky Cauldron. Exactly eight months ago.

And with that, his little life had been turned around.

He shot out of his chair to hold a falling Hermione who was still trying to make sense of the buckle on her heels. She fell onto him, tripping and grasping at his shirt. And then she clung to him. All soft and warm, with the smell of firewhiskey on her. She was clad in a little red dress that was _way_ too short. He held her close, taking the opportunity to snake his arms around her with the pretext of holding her up and steadying her. That was when he glanced at her chest. The zipper at the back of her dress was half undone and that made the front dip low. Real low.

He could now see the creamy tops of her breasts that were held tightly inside a dark Slytherin green lace bra. Her chest was now heaving with every breath, and he was mesmerized by his wife's body.

Suddenly, she buried her face in his chest and heaved a sigh. When she pulled back, her eyes were almost black. Pupils dilated, red lips in a smile.

"Best not to break my nose, now! Broken noses aren't attractive at all.", she giggled.

"That's right."

"Thank you for preventing my fall."

"Yeah."

With that, she withdrew and walked to her room.


End file.
